Pablo Neruda and Rabindranath Tagore

It was the second decade of the last century and Rabindranath Tagore was already beginning to be ubiquitous.The works of Tagore were translated to the French by Andre Gide,and to the Russian by Boris Pasternak and Aane Akhmatova.W.B. Yeats had written the preface to the first edition of Tagore's own translation of the Gitanjali in 1912 and Ezra Pound in a revised edition in 1913 compared him to Dante.Meanwhile twenty two of Tagore's titles had already been translated in 1917 to an immaculate Spanish, mainly through the pen of the Spanish poet Juan Ramon Jiminez (who later won the Nobel Prize in 1956) and that of his would-be wife, Zenobia Camprubi who was an American.They seemed especially responsive to Tagore's idealism and his sensitivity to nature's subtleties.It is perhaps their legacy that in Spain even today poets still compete for the Rabindranath Tagore prize for poetry and his books sell more than those of many younger Spanish-language poets.In contrast, in the rest of the world, especially in other parts of Europe and America,the excitement that Tagore's writing had created in the early years of this century was ephemeral and has largely waned at present.

Latin American literature was certainly influenced by these developments.A number of litterateurs including the nobel prize winners - Mexican poet Octavio Pa'z (who was once vehemently attacked later in his life by Neruda ) and Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral (she had wrote on some of Tagore's work and had an indelible influence on Neruda who met her her at an early age) came under the spell of the Tagorean magic.Victoria Occampo, an Argentinean lady was so moved by Tagore that she even came down to stay at Shantiniketan.But few in this continent were as deeply moved by the great Indian as the Legeandary Chilean poet Pablo Neruda.

It was Neruda's "Twenty poems of love and a song of despair" the book that catapulted him to glory.More poems followed and they ensured him immortality.The book had an unusual diffusion and went on to sell more than a million copies in a few years .All that success did not free it of the controversy: poem number 16 of the book and poem number 30 of Rabrindanath Tagore's "The Gardener" were almost identical.This was discovered by the young Chilean poet Volodia Teitelboim. His critics (particularly Pablo Rokha who was the most vociferous and venomous among them all) kept on discovering "plagiarisms" of Neruda to Tagore,Vincente Huidobro, Diaz Casanueva etc .This controversy was to follow him for life.

"Twenty poems of love and a song of despair" are full of a sensuality and an eroticism that was new to erstwhile Latin American poetry.The poet had said in his memories that he had thought to himself to put in a note explanatory recognizing that it was a paraphrase of a text of Rabindranath Tagore, but his friend Joaquin Cifuentes Sepveda advised to him that he should not do it: "...you are not idiot, Pablo. They will accuse you of plagiarism... ".He was not mistaken. In the second edition at Buenos Aires, the explanation was included.

"In My Sky at Twilight"
Pablo Neruda

(This poem is a paraphrase of the 30'th poem ["Tumi sandhar meghamala" ]
in Rabindranath Tagore's" The Gardener")

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and color are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

The lamp of my soul dyes your feet,
My sour wine is sweeter on your lips,
oh reaper of my evening song,
how solitary dreams believe you to be mine!

You are mine, mine, I go shouting it to the afternoon's
wind, and the wind hauls on my widowed voice.
Huntress of the depths of my eyes, you plunder
stills your nocturnal regard as though it were water.

You are taken in the net of my music, my love,
and my nets of music are wide as the sky.
My soul is born on the shore of your eyes of mourning.
In your eyes of mourning the land of dreams begins.


The Tagorean influence on Neruda can also be seen in the following poem..Tagore has a song "Jodi tor daak shune' keu na aashe'...ekla cholo re" which loosely means " If no one answers your call...walk alone." Tagore writes on to say how this person whose call no one has heeded should even walk on the thorns for his conviction, lighting his ribs (or renouncing everything) for illumination on the way....and perhaps if the person was ever asked as to how it felt during the lonely journey the answer might just have been this poem of Neruda:


"Come With Me, I Said, And No One Knew"
Pablo Neruda

Come with me, I said, and no one knew
where, or how my pain throbbed,
no carnations or barcaroles for me,
only a wound that love had opened.

I said it again: Come with me, as if I were dying,
and no one saw the moon that bled in my mouth
or the blood that rose into the silence.
O Love, now we can forget the star that has such thorns!

That is why when I heard your voice repeat
Come with me, it was as if you had let loose
the grief, the love, the fury of a cork-trapped wine

The geysers flooding from deep in itsvault:
in my mouth I felt the taste of fire again,
of blood and carnations, of rock and scald.

[Translated by Stephen Tapscott ]

Her Presence

We were talking about films.
My films.His films.
The meeting had been specific
How to get the script out of me

The producer found a way-
“ You give me the script and I will provide you the location for your next film!”

Not a bad deal. Not at all!!!

He left. And we were left alone.
Talking of his films. My films.

And suddenly, he remembered her.
“ You lost her because you backed out! You thought too much!!”

I did not deny.

And suddenly,as usual, she popped out.
Out of nowhere. On the TV screen.

“ There she is.”- I pointed out.

“See what I mean. Its God’s will. Both your lives are entwined.”- He said.

He, who had seen the buds of love blossoming,right in front of his eyes.
He, who reminded me then,that I was in love, when I was wholly unaware!
He, who had then betrayed both of us.
He, who then one day returned to be my friend.

“ She will return.”- My heart whispered.
That embryo of a tear smiled
Melting into a lump of sugar in my throat.

“ Meet her. Cast her in one of your films…” –He said.

I am cast in her mould.

THAT STORY….

So you have finally declared your love for him!

In the beginning was an emotion.
The word came later.

I re-read my scribblings and laugh.
Like the earth I seem to be rotating-
Rotating around the same topic!

“The sun and your heart are of the same substance.”
I remember sending you this SMS on a Valentine’s day.

And I laugh again at what I am doing now.
The same thing.

I rotate so much and yet find myself around you!
“The earth and my mind are in unison.”

And I believe I am perfectly placed.
If I inch towards you I will burn.
If I inch away from you I will turn cold.

The earth needs the sun.
What more can I tell you?

Yes, I can tell you that when I read that statement of yours my heart burned.
My guts were suddenly hollow.
My breath turned to sand.

Yet I smiled. You can ask the people around.
Yes, I smiled.

Now, do not ask me where I get this strength from?
I have no idea.
Like always.

I live on instinct.

A river runs between two moments. Two successive moments.

There is no difference between you and your illusion.
They are the same.
Like the sun and your heart.
Like the earth and my mind.

Another birthday and I haven’t gotten over the last!!

Its her birthday tomorrow and my mind is blank. For days I have been planning to write a poem for her. But in the midst of writing a script on a boy’s loss of innocence and an adulterous woman and her paramour, I have yet to write a single word for her.

I have not been in touch with her for more than twenty five[25] months now. Quite simply because I do not have her phone number. It is still a wonder to me that even after three years of not even having a glimpse of her, I still have an enormous amount of love for her. I often wonder if this love will consume me!

Strangely, in a sense I have moved on. I know she is seeing someone. And she is happy with him. So be it!

Five months since I have moved into my new home, I have also sort of become a hermit. I hardly walk out of the house without any reason. I spend the whole day with myself and feel happy. I watch the world from my window and meditate. The chaos outside brings an element of silence within me.

Once a while I enact a scene with her. [I know this could be termed as schizophrenia but somehow I have it under total control. I can switch it on and off whenever I want!] The scene could be anything from accidentally meeting her at a friend’s party or meeting her at a coffee shop or a premiere to even changing a past episode according to the present moment’s convenience. Strange mind games! But games that help me in my creativity.

Through out my blog, in almost all my post, there is a mention of her.In the same way, consciously or sub consciously, she has become a part of my very being in everything I do.

The most beautiful aspect of this love has been that it has opened my heart. I can feel other’s pain and sorrow and participate in it. I feel as if everyone’s pain is my own. Their happiness too. Its as if the whole world has become my family. There are moments when I get so in depth with some person’s emotions that I become them. Like feeling their loneliness. Their vulnerability. Their insecurities. Their madness. Their joy.

I live alone and I cherish my loneliness. I am at peace. I do not know how but somehow I have reached a zone . A zone where I get emotional/sensitive enough, yet at the same time there is a certain detachment.[My friend Sachin prophesized about this about me years ago. At that time I hadn’t understood him or myself.]

I do only what I must. I never force myself to do anything. I have finally found peace by surrendering. Acceptance is Godliness. Acceptance of/to one’s own nature.

So this birthday, my dear little princess, there is no song or a poem. Merely a wish that you have a great time and find happiness and solace like I have found mine.

happy birthday to you...S

The triangular moon on a rectangular night

At the end of this street
As you turn towards the left
There is a tree
Or let me be more specific-
There is a shadow of a tree
On which blossoms buds of sunrays
Its fragrance can be tasted on your fingertips.

The sky has been engulfed by a single drop of the ocean.

In my tea cup floats the sun like sugar cubes made of blood.


From my balcony I look down
And observe that the day is wearing a yellow night gown
And bargaining aloud
With the fish seller
As the fish turn into stinking cunts.
In a momentous swirl of an orgy.


I brush my teeth and wash my face and forget to look at my face in the mirror once again.
I wash myself with my own semen and stick on my mask for the day and walk out of my house into an incestuous world.

I walk.

I cross the road.

I hire a rickshaw.

I put on my glares.

I have only myself now.


I get down and wait as trains prostitute themselves.

I cross the red light area as usual with a phallus instead of a face.
A fart escapes and elopes with the wind.

I try to find my eyes and find it dangling between my legs.

I then realize that I can’t see my shadow. My own shadow. I look around.

I catch a glimpse of myself on the window of a passing car.

And find my shadow.


My own shadow.

I look up and see a triangular moon on the sky.

I switch off the lights of my room.

On a visit to Meherabad

How many times have I visited your home?
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I have gone astray
You’ve embraced me with your loving gaze

C’mon Baba! Why do you forgive me so easily?
I, who live in a harem of temptations,
Surrounded by voluptuous desires

C’mon Baba! Don’t sit there and smile at me
That I have to close my eyes and see my ego bleed
Its painful! Its painful! Its painful!

How many times have I visited your home?
How many times have I profaned its sanctity?
And everytime you’ve made me realize
The world is merely a reflection of what one is within

C’mon Baba! Don’t tease me day and night
And remind me that the body is a mere mistress
And the soul -the eternal mate

C’mon Baba! Reprimand me once a while
Whenever I dance with the serpent
Intoxicated by the cup of moonlight

Everytime I have visited your home
Everytime you’ve played the perfect host
And everytime I take your leave
I realize you are the guardian of my heart.

Love unleashed

Oh! This sweet pain in my heart!
Is this what they call love?
This fire burns me
And I feel whole!

Her gaze is my clear blue sky
I find my tears smile
Words dance in harmony
With the rhythm of my soul.

This song sings on its own
I can merely feel my breath
O, heavens! Up above
Show me the way to my beloved!